Whiskey
by Metalfan616
Summary: Set post Conviction. Spoilers for that epsiode.  They both needed a drink, and the drinking was more easily justified if it wasn't alone.


A/N Where's all the love for Sarah at? Am I the only one who thinks she's a really interesting character? Gutted she only joined in the final season, would have loved to see some more development of her character. Also, what's the betting one of the team gets bumped off in the final episode? My money's on Boyd unfortunately. Any how, this was written after watching the second part of Conviction. Sarah stays to talk with Boyd in his office rather than leaving him to his own thoughts. This is just a quick look into Sarah's head, I wanted to post something before whatever happens in the finale happens. I might write something a little longer exploring Sarah's character after my dissertation is all handed in. Would love to know what you guys think, about Sarah as a character as much as the actual fic.

Sarah turned to leave with Boyd's words about justice ringing in her ears. He was right. What was the point ultimately? If they could find the culprit, have them bang to rights with DNA, witnesses, everything and yet still they could evade justice somehow, why bother doing the job? She figured she'd have time enough to ponder that this evening, probably over a stiff drink or two. Or three . . .

She'd made it half way to the door before her thoughts were taken off track by the sound of Boyd's voice filling the heavy silence.

"Sarah . . ."

She halted her steps and glanced back at the older man. He was turned to face her now and she could see just how tired and defeated he looked. His normally imposing broad frame was slumped with weariness, his eyes heavy. The bruising spreading across his face appeared darker under the dim lighting and made it look all the more painful.

Sarah waited patiently but Boyd seemed to have lost track of whatever it was he wanted to say. Instead he crossed to his desk with her eyes following his tired movements, and opened one of the lower drawers.

"Drink?"

He was holding an unopened bottle of whiskey in one hand, the other resting on the handle of the drawer, waiting expectantly it seemed for her to turn the offer down. She considered doing just that, briefly. But then, she reasoned, it was easier to justify the drinking if you weren't drinking alone.

"Sure."

A slight flicker of a smile appeared on Boyd's face.

He reached back into the drawer, producing two small tumblers. Sarah listened to the splash of the liquid against the glass. It was immediately soothing and she found herself anticipating the taste, the burn and the blissful numbness that the drink would bring after such a difficult day. _I need this, _she admitted to herself.

Boyd approached her side and offered her one of the tumblers. She accepted it from his hand in silence and watched in slight surprise as he moved past her to drop down wearily onto the sofa. Sarah paused for a moment, took a mouthful of the amber liquid and then moved to sit next to him, leaning back into the leather, grateful for the support.

All the stress of the day felt heavy upon her shoulders, running through her mind at a speed that made it impossible to process everything that had happened. Sarah found herself closing her eyes defensively, hoping to block everything out.

"You alright?"

Boyd's voice was low and quiet, a genuine note of concern discernable. That was unusual to the say the least. But then much of what she'd seen in him today had been.

Her overriding memory was the look of intense fear on his face as she'd finally taken her foot off the wire and run towards him with seconds to go. When she'd finally pulled the wire and assured him the bomb was safe, all the tension had seemed to wash out of him and Sarah thought she had felt his hands trembling slightly as she'd released them. But then, her own had been shaking desperately and she couldn't be certain. Anger, frustration, irritation, these were all emotions she would have attributed to DSI Boyd, but never fear. Before today she couldn't have imagined him being afraid of anything. He always appeared so commanding it seemed impossible for anything to be able to provoke that emotion. But he'd certainly been afraid today.

Sarah opened her eyes to find his gaze on her and immediately wished she could shut them again as the guilt washed over her. She'd been wrong about him. Totally and utterly wrong. Yes he was too quick to react and yes, maybe reckless. But he was committed to justice, to being a police officer. He was totally committed to his job. And she might have just taken that away from him.

She dropped her gaze, unable to hold his any longer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Sure about that?" Boyd asked, following the question with a large gulp of his drink.

Persistence, that was another of his defining characteristics Sarah thought, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips.

She glanced back up to find he was still watching her carefully. There wasn't much point in lying so she simply gave a small shrug and took another mouthful of her drink.

Boyd seemed to accept this and returned her wry smile.

"Me too."

The admission should have surprised her as well, Boyd wasn't one to show any weakness. But, she reasoned, she had saved his life. It shouldn't be that odd to confide in someone, to trust someone, who had done that.

Sarah could feel the guilt growing inside her again. It balled up tight in her chest and almost made it hard to breathe. _I don't deserve his trust, _she thought.

"Do you think we should still be worried?"

"Sorry?" Sarah asked. His words threw her for a moment as she wrenched her mind away from the guilty thoughts it was currently dwelling on.

"About Carney, and the rest of them," Boyd clarified. "Do you think they'd try anything else."

"I don't think so," Sarah replied, grateful for something else to think about. "They know we can't move on the information we have, they're already too well protected, and too many people already know about what happened to you. If either of us were to go missing, we'd already know where to point the finger."

Boyd nodded his agreement. Sarah thought he looked slightly less troubled as he took another mouthful of whiskey.

"So there's no need for me to worry about being blown to little pieces any time soon then?"

"Not until the next shady group you manage to piss off at least."

Boyd laughed quietly at that.

They lapsed into silence once more, both sipping at their drinks, minds wandering back to the events of the day. Sarah found it was hard not to keep replaying the moment in her head, though, she was glad to find, it didn't carry the same weight of fear and desperation that thoughts of that other warehouse did. This time no one was dead. This time, eventually, she'd managed to save a life. It didn't make everything alright, but it went someway towards easing the pain.

Sarah found herself swilling the remnants of the liquid in her glass, staring deep into the amber swirl as she considered the man sat beside her. Peter Boyd might be one of the most difficult men she had ever worked with, but he was also one of the best. She was grateful she'd got there in time, even if it had taken a lot of typical Boyd shouting.

She knocked back the last of her whiskey, relishing the burn in the back of her throat, and glanced over at Boyd. His glass was still half full and he was making no move to finish it. Suddenly she felt self conscious. _I need another drink, _she thought. _I need to get out of here, I need to forget today, I need to . . ._

"Thank you, Sarah."

Boyd's voice was quiet and full of sincerity.

"You saved my life today and -"

"Eventually," she cut in, her guilt making her feel the need to undermine his praise. "I froze, Boyd. I froze and you could have, we both, could have died."

Boyd shook his head at her words.

"You kept your head, you kept calm. You did your job."

"I panicked and I was too slow," Sarah stated firmly staring Boyd straight in the eye. She didn't need this false praise, she knew she should have done better.

Boyd gave a heavy sigh, perhaps of frustration, but it sounded simply more like weariness. He set his glass down and reached out to Sarah, laying a his larger hand lightly on her own.

"You've got to let this go. If there's one thing I've learned from all of that self help, psychological mumbo jumbo Grace likes to corner me with every now and then, it's that you've got to put the past behind you."

He was smiling as he spoke but Sarah new he was also deadly serious. His hand felt warm covering her own despite having recently been wrapped around the cool glass. She felt grateful for the weight of its presence. It served as a reminder. They were both alive, they had made it out, and that was ultimately, she knew, down to her.

"I'm working on it," she said, not sure whether she was trying to reassure herself or Boyd.

He seemed to accept this though and gave her a small smile before removing his hand from hers and picking up his whiskey glass again. To her surprise, Sarah found she missed the comfort of his touch more than she missed the whiskey burn.

Boyd knocked back the last of his drink in one mouthful and glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"It's getting late. We'd better get going."

"Right, sure," Sarah replied, rising to her feet without much enthusiasm. She watched as Boyd rose too and replaced the whiskey glasses and the bottle back in his desk draw. He didn't look so downcast as before though his face certainly didn't look any less sore. Sarah found herself suddenly battling a strange urge to reach out to him, but pushed it aside as he rounded the desk again to stand beside her.

"Thanks for the drink," she said.

"I think we both needed it," Boyd replied with a slightly knowing smile.

Sarah nodded and unconsciously returned the smile.

"Night, Boyd."

"I'll see you tomorrow. Bright and early," he added as she headed for the door

Sarah knew she wouldn't drink any more that night. She would be there in the office early the next morning, ready for the day. But first there was something that needed putting right.


End file.
